


On a Blistering Palm

by Glossolalia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Broken Bones, Fist Fights, Grinding, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Loss of Limbs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glossolalia/pseuds/Glossolalia
Summary: Shiro's been pushed over the edge by Quintessence poisoning, and Hunk is the only one strong enough to stop him. In the end, Lance is the only one who can pamper Hunk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Jas, my dude, I love you and congratulations. Above and beyond for someone who's above and beyond, you feel?
> 
> //beta'd on my own, all mistakes are mine, yada yada

### i.

"We have to do this," Hunk said, words carved hollow from dread neither Lance or he dared voice.

The vow to protect the universe ascended into many things. Things such as a sense of self, an ideation of what it meant to have purpose greater than self, a sudden collapse of the preconceived notions of what's big and what's small, and so on and so forth.

On certain days, Hunk wasn't sure whether or not he should use the word ascend or descend. Currently, descend felt like the proper dip in vocabulary, a free fall of sorts.

"You sure you can handle him?"

Lance's arms were crossed over his chest, and his left hip stood slanted down. He was doing his best to temper the atmosphere by seeming aloof, but it wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. 

Hunk swallowed the bile building ladders toward his lips. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Keith isn't going to let you near Shiro."

The Paladins exchanged a mutual look that said this wasn't something Hunk hadn't thought about, and while Lance knew, he was simply there to reiterate. Hunk shifted his weight and mirrored Lance's stance, the bridge's lowlight casting shadows across their grave faces. The dimness was supposed to emulate night, but Hunk couldn't remember the last time his sleep hadn't echoed the nap effect. As he'd aged on Castle Lion, his sleep cycle had shortened and shortened. It was work to pretend he had high energy.

"Right, but Keith can't stop me," Hunk said, plain and simple. "Not to mention, this hoarding Feral Shiro thing is getting a little more than weird, even for them. Like, you don't just do that with someone who's supposed to be leading a fight for the universe. This isn't tragic taboo where we might need to let Keith sleep beside the corpse for a couple weeks before he assumes his place as leader. Shiro isn't _dead,_ man. Keith just can't handle that he's not the only person who might get through to him."

Lance lifted a thin brow as if ready to contest the Yellow Paladin, but Hunk wouldn't hear it.

"He's _not_ dead, Lance."

"Right, right," Lance breathed and he dragged his fingers along the back of his head. "But you heard what the princess said about his brain and—"

"If any two people can reverse that, then it's me and Pidge."

"I know," Lance reassured him. "Just looking at all the realities here."

Hunk reached forward and grabbed Lance's bicep. He flexed his grip, and Lance shifted closer, even though his eyes were on the panoramic view of space that laid exposed beside them. Lance closed his eyes and reached up to grab Hunk's bicep in return, and the two men finally met each other's gaze. Lance peered into Hunk's eyes, and after an internal fistfight, quirked the corner of his mouth and full on grinned. There was something about the expression that was lightly wicked, and Hunk suspiciously looked him over.

"Make sure it's somewhere the cameras catch."

Hunk dropped his hand. "You've got to be kidding."

"Oh, _what_? We're going to want to watch this for years to come. Don't ruin this for me. Can you imagine what that footage could look like with some cool editing?"

He shifted his gaze to the side and considered. "I mean, it'd be pretty cool. I guess. Couple of arc shots, maybe an aerial—you know those cool thigh shots in Westerns? That'd be so perfect." He realized what he was saying and then pursed his lips. "Wait. This is serious."

"Everything we're doing right now is serious. Shiro would want us to have a sense of humor."

Both of them paused on that, and they simultaneously shook their heads.

"No. He wouldn't," Hunk said.

"Yeah, no. He totally wouldn't. He probably would've hit me for saying that."

"And then told us this is a _really_ bad idea."

"But we'd end up doing it maybe eleven minutes later—twelve tops—on his orders."

Hunk exhaled hard and despondently looked out the window, also drinking in the rich blackness that made up their daily surroundings. Something about it seemed colder to Hunk. There were genuinely days when the universe seemed hollower than usual, but he tried not to overthink what that implied for himself.

"Why does that always happen?" he muttered.

Lance lifted his palms and shrugged. "Because Shiro only pretends to know what's going on. It's kind of his job to be Master of Bullshits and Charms."

"Harsh, dude," Hunk said, but he cleared his throat to hide a smile. "Alright. Let's do this."

Hunk reached out and palmed the back of Lance's head. He pulled him forward, and Lance instinctively reached to capture the back of Hunk's neck. Mouths firmly pressing, Lance tilted his head and roughly took hold of the front of Hunk's shirt to keep him in place. Though they were making light of the situation, Lance understood that Shiro's GalraTech wasn't something to take lightly. He'd once watched the man punch through sheets of metal to get to a dying Keith, even going as far as to dent the Red Lion. When in the right mindset, the bionic arm took lethality to another level and set it ablaze.

There was a reason Shiro had once been the Galra Empire's greatest weapon.

"I'm going to go distract Keith," Lance said after Hunk had pulled away and decisively kissed his forehead. "When he's out of the room, then it's all yours. Is Pidge ready?"

"They're already in the infirmary and ready to operate."

"Oh, man," Lance said and bounced in place, running his fingers through his hair. "I hope I get to hit Keith at least once. He won't even be able to hold it against me if it's for the Greater Good."

 

### ii.

Shiro's deterioration had been gradual but so heavy and suffocating in its evidence that Hunk couldn't remember the last time he _hadn't_  felt uncertain around the Black Paladin. Their shining beacon of a leader had been manhandled by Haggar one last time, and since returning to Castle Lion, hadn't even held his frame the same way. It was Keith who picked up on it first and also denied it faster than anyone else.

Hunk couldn't blame the kid.

Love was willful, and Keith's life mission was to protect Shiro and _then_ the universe.

Putting Lance second to anything struck Hunk relentlessly, but when it came to his team and the lives of others, then Hunk couldn't mix priorities. It was what made his beef with the Red Paladin so tangible as of late. He wanted to be compassionate, but when they couldn't even form Voltron with the Galra Empire breathing over their shoulders, there was something to be said about one's primacies. Since Hunk was the only one physically able, he'd long since understood helping Shiro was on him.

He strode down the hallway, Bayard tucked away into his day clothes. Hunk shifted his gaze from left to right, and he listened for Allura or Coran. To anyone watching the cameras, it would've appeared that he was heading toward the showers, but Hunk was aimlessly ambling through the residency wing's maze. He was pointedly waiting for Lance to signal that he'd coaxed Keith into the kitchen for food.

It took a while, something Hunk had anticipated, but eventually his earpiece hissed three times. That was all he needed before he spun on his heel and strode toward Shiro's room.

It'd been weeks since he'd last seen the Black Paladin. Sometimes, Allura questioned Keith or ordered him to open up the room, but after each visit, she wordlessly allowed it to continue.

He needed to see it for himself.

The anxiety the secrets had caused the team was unbearable at best.

At the end of the hallway, Shiro's door loomed like an untouchable relic. There was an unsettling aura to the entryway, and everything in his torso reverberated with woeful premonitions. Even the shadows casting across the door seemed to bar it off even further, but Hunk was stronger than that.

Using the override code Pidge and he had devised, Hunk pressed his palm against the reader panel and waited for the torpid blue light to radiate purple. It took longer than Hunk would've liked, but the color abruptly changed. As if being pried open, Shiro's door slowly slid to the right.

It opened onto darkness only penetrated by the hallway's loose lighting. The Altean digital clock in the farthest corner blinked back at Hunk, but other than that, there was nothing to immediately see. Hunk cleared his throat and stepped forward, glancing from left to right as he nervously tightened his fists. This kind of thing was everything but his typical role, but he shook that idea from his head and strode forward.

He was a Paladin. _That_ was his role.

Same as everyone else.

"Shiro," Hunk said, not wanting to surprise the man and make it a fair confrontation.

Maybe they wouldn't have to fight.

Hunk could only hope.

From the bed, there was a startled breath accented by a subhuman noise Hunk could only equate to a growl. He fleetingly closed his eyes, asked whatever sentient element of the universe that might exist 'why,' and reflexively shifted to the side. A shadow maneuvered along the top of the bed, and when a pair of eyes illuminated back at him, attached to a silhouette of a man, Hunk pursed his lips and nodded. The nod was in response to that sentient element's apparent silence.

Loud and clear.

He was on his own.

A flash of yellow glared back at him like the Tuscan sun, and Hunk barely had time to come to grips with himself when Shiro lunged his way. The leap was catlike in his gracefulness, but when Hunk lifted both arms, they collided with a raw strength entirely beyond that of a _cat_. Hunk grunted and stomped a foot into the ground, skidding backward toward the wall. He pointedly kept the door in sight. In order to keep himself from being backed into a corner, then he had to coax the fight into the hallway.

"Shiro, it's me! It's _Hunk_! We're _friends_!"

Their faces were a breath apart, and Hunk's eyes widened as he looked into Shiro's glowing pupils. The warm grain met Hunk's black, and purple veins pulsated beneath Shiro's paled skin. The Quintessence poisoning caused his flesh to ripple along his cheekbones as if it were seeking freedom, and suddenly, Hunk understood why Shiro was being kept away from the other Paladins. He ground his teeth and dug his heel in harder, Shiro's and his stalemate growing unsteady through the ragged breathing.

"I know who you are," Shiro said with a kind of venom that forced Hunk to use all of his strength to toss him through the door.

Shiro's limbs twisted at the toss, but he agilely caught himself with a single hand. He landed crouched and firmly on his feet, sliding backward until his heels met the farthest wall. Hunk was through the door when Shiro charged him, and the speed caused Hunk to yell before darting to the right.

"This is so not cool, Shiro!" Hunk yelled.

There was no response to that statement. Shiro flung out an arm, and Hunk internally sighed when purple enveloped the limb. He was hoping they'd fight without the prosthetic, but he wasn't sure why he'd believed it was avoidable.

Hunk opened his palm, and his Bayard appeared with an offshoot of glitz. He wasn't as sharp as Lance in terms of his blaster, but an arm wasn't a difficult target to hit. Hunk lifted the handheld form, and it expanded into the gun with a heavy smack against his opposite palm. He cocked his head as he aimed at the pursuing Shiro who was either on a suicide mission or entirely unafraid. Hunk clenched his teeth again when Shiro sprinted straight for him, and he wrapped two fingers around the trigger. He pumped once, twice and then pulled back with both eyes wide and vivid with intent.

Orbs of blue energy raced toward Shiro and nicked the prosthetic, but due to the magenta glow, Hunk couldn't guess how much damage had been dealt.

He rolled out of Shiro's way and landed on a knee, barely missing a hit to the face, and tried to shoot again. Hunk missed, but he wasn't deterred. Shiro was fast, much faster than him. There was no getting around that, but Shiro's hits were too powerful for him to control. This made his accuracy dodgy at best, and Hunk had to wonder if Shiro was in pain from the strain on his musculoskeletal system.

"Shiro, you have to snap out of whatever's eating you, buddy!" Hunk ordered and shifted onto his feet before running backward to keep his range. Every couple seconds, he popped off with another blast, but they were repeatedly only grazing the pursuing Black Paladin. "This isn't you!"

"You don't know who I am!"

Well, no.

He knew he couldn't call for Lance's backup without engaging Keith, and Pidge was setting up the operating table. That said, Hunk didn't have a lot of time before Allura and Coran caught a whiff.

"Come _on_ , man," Hunk breathed and then turned a corner to flat out run. He was panting. "All you're doing is giving Zarkon more power by letting this consume you!"

Shiro's footsteps echoed behind him, and Hunk flicked a glance over his shoulder. They were headed toward a dead end or Forbidden Zone of Castle Lion that Allura had sealed off. Clearly, the blaster wasn't working. He tossed it to the side as soon as he spotted the locked door.

Hunk turned himself around and breathed in hard.

"Alright. We're doing this. We are doing this!"

He could've aimed to run past Shiro, but instead, Hunk ran for Shiro. Hand to hand combat was the only way he was going to reach the Galra arm, and he was already resenting Keith further for not being on their side. With his sword, they would've been able to seamlessly cut the thing off, but at the suggestion, Keith had frozen, stopped speaking to them entirely.

" _His nerve endings are connected to that thing. He'll feel everything. Do you want to traumatize him even more?"_

" _Do you want your best friend back?"_

It hadn't ended well.

Hunk dismissed his annoyance, and as he continued to run, threw back a large fist wound tight with strength. Shiro matched his pose, and the pair came together with a mirrored punch that sent shockwaves through Hunk's ribcage. The sheer enormity of their combined strength choked him, but Hunk didn't waver. He stared at Shiro whose face gave away his shock. Hunk ignored his busted knuckles, the blood beginning to wrap around his wrist like a draining river.

"Surprise," Hunk breathed, voice ragged.

Shiro narrowed his stare, and he clasped onto Hunk's wrist to toss him, but Hunk reached up with a bare hand and caught Shiro's bionic wrist so that they were forced into another deadlock. Hunk squeezed with all his might, fighting the burn of Quintessence with a hard yell, and Shiro screamed. Hunk knew Shiro could feel every ounce of his crushing squeeze, which was what inspired him to squeeze harder and emit as much strength as his adrenaline would allow.

"Let go," Shiro hissed, words garbled by what sounded like an old woman's voice.

This startled Hunk, but he tightened his fist until his knuckles whitened. The metal dented inward, even with the extra emission of magic.

"Not on your life!"

Well, actually, this was for Shiro's life, but…

Anyway.

Another exterior plate gave in, and Shiro started to squeeze Hunk's wrist in response. Knowing he was about to have a fractured wrist himself, Hunk ripped downward and pulled Shiro to eye level. The pain on Shiro's face was subdued by his rootless rage, but Hunk overlooked it. Fighting his penchant for sympathy, he thrust Shiro's arm back with a lurch, unnaturally pushing against the hydraulics that gave him proper elbow function. Hunk flinched when he heard the first wires stretch and tear apart.

"What are you _doing_?" Shiro snapped, suddenly drooling glowing Quintessence.

Hunk pushed back again, and he cringed at the sudden snap.

Shiro's scream was guttural.

"Uh, Hunk!" Lance's voice hissed through his earpiece. "We've got a problem!"

"I don't know if I wanna know right now! Kind of busy…"

Shiro's scream echoed and saliva dribbled down his throat. The yellow in his eyes flickered from steel grey to fully lit, and Hunk suddenly twisted Shiro's arm against the grain. More screaming followed—this time rage-yelling from Hunk—and Shiro rapidly sucked in air as his strength circled the drain. Shiro hit a knee, but he didn't let go of his assailant's wrist. The glow in Shiro's bionic arm shuddered once only to go out and give the metal over to its sudden uselessness.

"It's Keith! He's on his way! You've got two minutes to get rid of that arm."

"Can't you slow him do—"

Hunk cried out when he heard his own wrist snap. He shuddered and gagged on spit, his skin tearing against serrated bone.

Lance screamed Hunk's name at the condemning gurgle.

Hunk knew he had to free his arm before he lost his, too. He released Shiro's broken arm and then reached up to sucker punch the man beneath his chin. This hit loosened Shiro's grip and sent him flying toward the end of the hallway, and Hunk winced when he smacked against the ground like a skipped rock.

Steps rapidly padded toward him. He could tell by the lightness that it was Keith in hot pursuit, ready to shred him inside out. Lance was swearing about twenty feet behind him, pleading for him to stop and come back for food.

Keith appeared around the corner, breathless. Lance tried to skid to a halt, but he slammed against Keith's back and stumbled backward. He caught himself.

"Keith, cut it off," Hunk ordered, words stern and beyond done with the situation. He reached for his hanging elbow, more than ready to call it a day and enter a cryopod.

"Cut _what_ off?"

"Shiro's arm. Do it now before he wakes up."

Keith rolled his jaw and stared at Hunk defiantly. "There's no way…"

"Keith!" Lance yelled. "Look at Shiro. Look at _them_. If Hunk didn't think this was a good idea do you think he'd risk as much as he has? This _has_ to happen. The arm is what's making him freakin' nuts!"

Keith's eyes widened, but they shot back to the unconscious Shiro. The purpled veins were already receding from his face and melding into a soft, human blue.

The red sword manifested in Keith's hand. Exteriorly speaking, he seemed calm, but Hunk knew better. The fellow Paladin was as weak as he was for the safety of their leader. Causing him bodily harm came with its own weight, and when Keith reluctantly approached Shiro, Hunk saw that Keith would do as told.

Lance jogged past Keith, his expression uncharacteristically severe. He knelt down at Hunk's side to inspect Hunk's shattered arm, and he sharply inhaled at the sight.

"If you don't listen to him, Keith…" Lance snapped, nostrils flaring. "I'll remove _your_ arm!"

"It's alright," Hunk reassured Lance.

"He tried to tear your arm off!"

Keith closed his eyes, brought back his sword, and with a soft sob, swung down.

Hunk looked away, but Lance watched and only winced at the chop.

 

### iii.

Surgery lasted twelve hours, not including the time it took for emergency adrenaline injections to kick in so that Hunk could still assist Pidge with a broken arm.

Due to the nature of the prosthetic, Hunk and Pidge hadn't trusted the ancient healing pods to properly detach the shards of metal. Not to mention, they needed what was left for accurate measurements and mimicry. Hunk and Pidge had long since planned to rebuild Shiro's arm using Galra specs, but their biggest concern had been modeling the right fit, which could've taken weeks if they'd worked from scratch. That being said, even with the Galra model, it was a process. A long process.

When Hunk returned to Lance's room, his shoulders were sagging and his back ached. It was night again, somehow, but his brain was frayed wires and sparking too bright for him to consider sleep.

Leaned over his knees with his face in his hands, he didn't react as the door whirred open and Lance stepped inside. He did peek through his fingers, and when he saw Lance's lion slippers staring up at him, a small smile found Hunk's lips. The smile slowly spread through him, and he leaned back with a laugh that lightened Lance's solemn demeanor.

"Long day," Lance said, more as a statement than question.

"Long day," he agreed.

"How's Shiro?"

"That medically induced coma probably feels pretty good right now. I'm a _little_ jealous."

"Don't talk like that," Lance said, sounding genuinely bothered. "It's…"

"Yeah, sorry," Hunk tried, but it didn't sound particularly sincere. "Just, you know, tired. That's all."

Lance couldn't argue with that further, so he approached the bed and sat down. They looked at one another for a split-second, and suddenly, Lance flung his arm around his shoulders and grinned.

"What?" Hunk asked, incredulously crinkling his gaze. "What did I do?"

"You tore off Shiro's arm. You crumpled it like it was foil or something," he said, laughing but still swallowing what he could. "That's so cool."

"I didn't _like_ doing it! I had this thing called 'no choice' happen. It's pretty inconvenient."

"I'm not saying you _had_ to, but that makes it even cooler. Kind of like how Keith does everything perfect on his first try, and it's super annoying, but it looks awesome because he just does it without thinking." Lance brought Hunk even closer. "You took care of us out there, buddy. No one else was going to try and get Shiro help. Well, not the kind he needed. You've got a big heart, but that big head of yours really makes up for a lot of what we lack."

Hunk's lips shifted to the side, and he smiled at the thought.

"Cool, huh?"

"Way cool."

Hunk scooted a little closer and then fully smiled to himself. Lance leaned forward, moving himself into Hunk's line of sight. There was an appreciative pause before Lance shifted closer and kissed Hunk, fingers reaching up for hair that had long since been cut back both for convenience and a maturing sense of self. Lance pulled him closer, but Hunk didn't mind. It was Lance after all. He thrived on impatience and insistence, and Hunk could taste it on his tongue with every retrieving flick.

"Let me take care of you," Lance breathed against his lips.

Hunk leaned and dismissively kissed him in response. "Lance, you don't have to…"

"Yeah, I know. Kind of what makes it what it is."

"Oh," Hunk said and thoughtfully looked past Lance as Lance attempted to kiss him again. "That makes sense."

Lance paused when Hunk's wistful expression accidentally appeared more like disinterest. He pulled back with an injured sniff that was reminiscent of their time at the Garrison when Iverson would reprimand him. Hunk blinked, but Lance was already on his feet, tugging off his shirt and switching it out for a sweater. Lance ruffled his hair back into place and scraped his hands along his stubbly jaw.

" _Lance_ , come back."

Lance didn't listen.

"Buddy!" he tried again.

Buddy probably wasn't the best word for his boyfriend right then, but—too late.

Hunk groaned and reached for Lance's arm. He caught it, and the catch surprised Hunk who'd anticipated Lance slipping away. He quickly freed him out of respect, but Lance turned around and caught Hunk's forearm in return. They made halting eye contact, and Hunk gingerly pulled Lance toward his lap.

Face flushed but determined, Lance peered into Hunk's gaze and thoughtfully avoided the injured arm that had been mended with a five second cryopod patch job. Lance's fingers glided onto Hunk's shoulders, and he used his weight to push him back with a quick thud against the mattress. They shared a small look, Lance pointedly challenging him and Hunk not even bothering to fight as Lance leaned down.

"You win," Hunk said, but Lance shushed him with a kiss Hunk couldn't help but open his mouth against. There was the mutual soft intake of breath, and Lance planted his palm beside Hunk's head to steady their position. His other set of knuckles thoughtlessly rested against the man's jawline, and he slid them upward until he could push his fingers through Hunk's hair and rock his hips back.

There was an escalation of breathing, of want. Lance wouldn't admit it, but seeing Hunk takeout Shiro was pointblank _hot_. Pedestrian sounding or not, that's what it was, and with every lingering thought, he ushered his hips forward over and over. Building friction, building intention, building something that would catapult Lance's senses into overdrive. Hunk was tired, but Lance figured he'd earned a morning to sleep in. Lance knew that, when he was through with Hunk, he'd definitely get a full night's sleep.

Hunk reached down for Lance's thigh and attempted to tug him closer. He pulled, but stopped, hissing from the pain in his arm.

Quick to respond to Hunk's discomfort, Lance retracted and looked at the fractured limb, panting. "Is your arm _still_ snapped in two?"

"It's only fissured now." Hunk tried to reach for Lance and bring him back down. "We're fine. It's fine. It'll heal on its own. The human body is magic and whatever."

Lance didn't bite.

"Right. You could whack it against a wall and break it in two, which would go great in a lion and…"

Hunk, determined even after his day of pure determination, caught Lance's hip and attempted to flip them over. Lance could've easily shoved him off, but he didn't bother beyond a weak groan and quick wrapping of legs around Hunk's hips. Hunk reached and resolutely pressed down on his broken arm. He pushed his weight against it for balance, strained to keep a straight face and then mournfully jerked back from Lance into an upright position.

"Ow, okay—no, you're right. It's still broken. Ow…"

Hunk lifted his arm and brought it to his chest, and Lance slid his arms behind his head.

"I was right," Lance said, too self-satisfied.

Hunk frowned, and there it was. The pout. "Uh, whatever, Lance. I can't spend time in a cryopod with Shiro out, anyway. Pidge needs to sleep, too."

"Then let me set it for you."

His arm limply settled on his thigh. "You know how to set broken bones?"

"Galaxy Garrison first aid! I paid attention in that class."

Hunk pursed his lips and lifted an eyebrow. "Only because Professor Winslow was an A-class babe."

"Still paid attention, didn't I?"

Realizing he couldn't argue against that, Hunk shrugged with a ' _fine, fine_.' Lance shot to his slipper-adorned feet. He raised a single finger to signal for Hunk to stay, and Hunk wondered where he would've gone anyway. It was a matter of minutes before Lance returned to the room with a long piece of metal, bandages and a sagging bag of ice. He dropped the ice at Hunk's feet with a sick slosh, and Hunk eyed it in momentary disgust as it swayed from side to side, its interior a bizarre purple.

Lance plopped down beside him, ready to do right by Hunk. He gently took Hunk's arm into his hands and properly straightened it with a tug that was accented by both Hunk's sharp gripe and a sick pop that could've curdled a weaker stomach. As if he'd done it a hundred times before, which he definitely hadn't, Lance lined Hunk's arm with the metal slate and swiftly wrapped the arm over and over.

"When Shiro's stable, then you have to go to the cryopod."

Hunk ignored that. "You really do like taking care of people."

Lance's flush crept from his chest to his ears. He tied off the end of the bandages and then plopped the bag of ice on Hunk's arm with a pointed drop. Hunk winced.

"Don't dull my shine by putting it like that."

Hunk pressed his mouth Lance's temple and smiled.

"Hardly grounds for dulling," he murmured into his hair.

Suddenly a stark three hundred degrees Fahrenheit, Lance leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Hunk's bicep. He tried not to, but he softly laughed at himself.

"Dude, shut up."


End file.
